MARK WILLIAMS WAS LOOKING AT HIM WITH WILD BLUE EYES, and there was some saliva dribbling out from the corner of his mouth. He was tied in a restraining jacket, flat on his back, and could not move anything other than his head. He said, "Doc, you have to believe me! I am not crazy!"
Dr. Johnson had read the history on Williams and found his case to be fascinating. Apparently the patient had been committed to this institution over 40 years ago, and Williams' own belief in the story that he told had not been shaken that entire time.
"All right Mr. Williams," said Dr. Johnson. "I will listen to your story. I will believe you, if I can."
"Doc," started Williams, "I was born in 2022." Judging from his looks, it was more like 1930, so his story was already on bad footing. Here it was 2002 AD but Williams had gray hair and a very wrinkled face. For a man who wouldn't be born for another 18 years he looked pretty worn out.
"I grew up in Los Angeles, California," Williams continued. "And it was a tough place. The radio was blaring Spanish all day long, and White people like you and me, were the minority, and had to be on our guard, because we were not wanted."
Dr. Johnson bit on his lip just slightly to keep from grinning. Anyone who walked the streets of Los Angeles today, could see that the town was virtually all White, just like it had always been since it was founded. There were no Spanish radio stations at all, and never had been. However, being the professional that he was, he managed not to smile.
"The school I went to was named Pancho Villa High, and there were only a few classes still taught in English there. Most everything was in either Spanish or Ebonics." Williams was looking at him intently, searching Dr. Johnson's face for any sign of understanding.
"How long have I been in here?" Williams suddenly asked, his eyes taking on a new gleam of intensity. "I have to hurry and get the word out! Before long it will be too late. You have to believe me!"
"I am listening to you Mr. Williams," said Dr. Johnson in a pleasant tone. He had just come from a session with a man who thought that he was George Washington, and he was finding the Williams patient to be far more interesting. "Please continue if you would, and explain to me what Ebonics is, or are."
"Ebonics is an English dialect of sorts," replied Williams. "It really is a bastardized Black language, spoken with slipshod grammar and gutter English mixed in with Jive."
"Black English as a language?" asked the doctor. "Taught in a Los Angeles high school?" Dr. Johnson just couldn't get the sound of disbelief out of his voice.
"OK Doc," said Williams. A sudden look of conspiratorial camaraderie came over his face, and he said, "Listen, if you can get me out of here, I can spread the word in time to save America."
"First of all, Mr. Williams," countered the doctor with an assuring tone, "I have to know what the word is that you will be spreading before I can join your cause."
"Not my cause Doc," said Williams enthusiastically. "Our cause; the cause of all White people in America."
"Please continue your story Mr. Williams"
"OK, where was I? Oh yes, I was in high school. I was a junior that year. That would make it about the year 2039. Anyway, I came home one day and found that my house was on fire, and on a wall that was not yet fully burned, I saw spray painted the words, 'Die Gringo.' I found out after the fire was put out that my mother was in that house when they burned it." Tears started to trickle down his cheek, and they were soon joined by the sounds of sobs.
If only I could help this poor man, thought Dr. Johnson. Here was a man who was in emotional misery over something that could not possibly have happened yet, for 37 more years, and based upon the setting of the tale being told, it could not have happened at all. There simply were no Mexican enclaves in the greater Los Angeles area in 2002. Why did Williams have such a fear of them taking over in the future?
"Mr. Williams! Uh, Mr. Williams... How long ago did this happen to your home?"
"Oh that was many years ago," replied Williams. "But it hurts just like it was yesterday."
"Such pain is very hard to deal with," Dr. Johnson said comfortingly. "But see if you can move past that for the moment and tell me what happened next."
"I immediately went looking for the Mexican hooligans that did it of course!" William's emotions snapped back to where they were carrying the same burning intensity as before. "But before I could find them, a strange man stopped me on the street. He asked if I would like a better revenge than what I had in mind at the moment."
"I asked what he meant by that, and he said that he had a way to get all of the Mexicans out of Los Angeles for keeps. I asked him if he was going to move them all to San Bernardino or San Diego. But he said that he was going to move them all back to Mexico."
After that Williams paused for a long time, and Dr. Johnson, fearing that the patient had lost his train of thought, prompted him with, "And so what did the two of you do?"
"Do?" replied Williams. "We did a lot I'll tell you. First off I 'went to school.' I learned history like they never taught it in public school. I found out that America was originally created by White Europeans. I found out that White people had invented a lot of the things that we take for granted today. It wasn't only other people who could invent things, the way they had said in my school."
This line of thought was completely alien to Dr. Johnson. He couldn't think of a time in America where White children in school had not been taught their rightful place in history. What sort of dementia had take over this poor soul?
"Once I had learned the truth about history, they showed me some key points of American history that, if changed, could alter the main course of what happened to America. That change would return her to the path that she was on before the 1960s overthrow of our society. Making those changes would save her from destruction."
"And do you still remember any of these key points of history?" asked Dr. Johnson.
"There was the May 17, 1954 Supreme Court's ruling on Brown vs. The Board of Education," Williams recited.
Dr. Johnson's brow wrinkled. He didn't remember any such ruling, although he did remember learning in school that we had lost several members of the Supreme Court that year through some catastrophe or other. He couldn't remember just what it was, but he was sure that it was an accident. He decided that the ruling Williams was speaking of must be a delusion.
"And there was the point where integration was forced on all public schools by the Supreme Court, and even the National Guard was called out by President Kennedy to enforce the oppressive ruling."
"What!" cried Dr. Johnson. "Have you seen one of our schools today? All the students are White!" He had slipped. How unprofessional that was. No matter how absurd what this man was saying, he had to control his own emotional response to it. When a disturbed man spoke, he would say disturbed things. How could Williams be so confused as to think that there had been a President Kennedy, when the only one who had ever run for the office had died of a heart attack or some other natural cause before his campaign even got started. And a president of the United State using the National Guard against an American school? Ridiculous!
"I am sorry sir," said the doctor. "Please continue."
"The immigration act of 1965," said Williams after a very long pause. "That was the big one. That was what started pouring millions of people of other races into America. That was what destroyed Los Angeles and all of California, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, New York, Florida and a large section of nearly every other state. It was that piece of legislation that brought the plague upon us. That was what I most needed to stop.
"How long have I been here?" he demanded. "I have to stop that legislation from happening, no matter what." Williams pulled at his restraints with no effect.
"You still have plenty of time Mr. Williams," replied the doctor. "That legislation has not been passed, I assure you."
Dr. Johnson had to silently chuckle on the last one. Due to a ground swell in the popular opinion in 1965, congress had been forced to pass one of the toughest pieces of immigration legislation ever. No one who was not of the Caucasian race could immigrate into America, and even those who were White had to be healthy, and capable of bringing some benefit to America. Williams was really off base on this one!
"Oh, thank goodness!" exclaimed the patient. "I really have to hurry."
"After you had your education and you were given a list of things that would be good to change, then what did you do?" asked Dr. Johnson.
"The man who had originally grabbed me, next took me to the University of California in Los Angeles," said Williams.
"UCLA is a fine institution," said Dr. Johnson. "One of the best in the entire world."
"Well, it wasn't doing so well back then," Williams said. "It was overrun with politics and warring racial groups. However, there was one White physicist still in residence, who had cracked the key to time travel."
The doctor felt a chill run down his spine. What if... No, he needed to get a grip on himself. This man was clearly ill. There is no way that he actually had gone back in time.
"I can see that you don't believe me," said Williams with a smirk. "I am an expert in detecting that. I have been pumped full of drugs and kept locked up for who knows how long, but I can still see when someone thinks that I am crazy. Time travel is impossible you think. But it isn't impossible; because I did it!"
"Not at all Mr. Williams," replied the doctor, feeling a bit ashamed having his thoughts read so clearly by this patient. "I don't use the word crazy to describe any of my patients, and I am only here to evaluate what you have to say. Please do not read things into my expressions, because I do not find your story any less believable than others that I have heard today." He was being honest with the last. George Washington had told a whopper!
"That's good Doc," said Williams. "Because I am not crazy. They sent me back to the year 1953. And I saw President Eisenhower with my own two eyes. I brought books and pamphlets with me and I had a plan. But I never got to put it in place. I had only been wandering around for a short time before you people locked me up in here."
"Well what did you do when you first arrived?" asked the doctor.
"I felt like floating at first, from the great feeling I got from just walking on the streets of Los Angeles and seeing White faces there," replied Williams; his entire manner had changed. He suddenly was clearly happier and looked the sanest that he had during the entire session so far. "Oh what a lovely sight that was. And then I started talking to everyone about what I knew about the future. Most people acted as though they thought that I belonged in here with you doctors. But I was not pushy about it, and if they didn't look interested in what I had to say, I did not bother them any further."
"Well, didn't anyone pay attention to what you said?" asked Dr. Johnson.
"Oh yes, there was one man who took what I said very seriously. Perhaps not so much at first, but after he checked out the books I brought with me, his manner changed completely."
"What books?" asked the doctor.
"I had a copy of My Awakening by David Duke," Williams began.
"Not President David Duke?" asked the doctor who was startled once again.
"He's president now?" asked Williams. His eyes squinted and he looked about the room. "But he couldn't be old enough yet. You have to be 35 and he must be in his teens if it is before 1965."
Seeing that he had made a mistake in letting that information slip out, the doctor covered up with a lie, "Oh no I am sorry, I was thinking of the Dr. Duke who is president of the medical university here in Los Angeles." No matter that the school president's name was really O'Reilly. He just wanted to keep Williams on track. "What other books did you bring with you."
"There were several older ones on the subject of race, which is all that you can get in the 21st century. The powers that be pretty much blocked anyone from publishing new ones. I brought The Bell Curve and Disposessed Majority and a World Almanac from the year 2040, which was the year that I came back from.
"I think that it was the World Almanac that convinced him. It had pictures just loaded with Black people in it, nearly all the sports pictures had Blacks in them, and many of the other pictures did too. Mr. Robertson at first sounded like he thought I was a lunatic, but once he looked at the almanac he stopped smiling and became deadly serious. "
"Ah, this Mr. Robertson," asked the doctor. "What was his first name?"
"It was George," answered Williams.
Dr. Johnson had to pick his chin up off his chest, once he realized it was lying there. George Robertson was one of the wealthiest men in the world; probably the wealthiest.
"At the time Mr. Robertson had been running a small organization of concerned White citizens, but up until then, he had not been taken very much more seriously than I had been. But everything changed after he read my books. The history section in the World Almanac told all about how our nation had been taken over by the Leftists, and how the Civil Rights movement had trampled the society of the White people in America. The pictures clearly showed how our demographics had changed.
"The quality of the pictures in the book was better than was generally available in 1953, which gave it credibility. However the way it listed the correct winners for the World Series, and the other sporting events before they actually happened was quite impressive. Elections and other items of history that appeared to be predictions, from the point of view of the early 1950s, came to pass perfectly. Even items concerning the history of other countries turned out to be perfectly correct. The almanac had to be taken seriously."
Dr. Johnson knew quite a bit about George Robertson. The man had used the stock market to gather in big blocks of stock for several major companies in various industries while they were in their infant stages. He had been working behind the scenes in politics for nearly as long as he had been playing the stock market. He had built an unbelievably powerful political organization, and he had caused some very big changes in America during the last 50 years. Could those changes have been as sweeping as they would have had to be in order to make Williams' story true? No! It wasn't possible. This man was crazy and he had just developed a nearly plausible story. There is no way that White Americans could ever be stupid enough to let their land be invaded by non-Whites like this guy was claiming. No way!
"So, Mr. Williams," began the doctor. "What became of your books?"
"You would have to ask Mr. Robertson about that," replied Williams. "He took them for safe keeping, and I never saw them again. In fact, it was not too long after he took them that some gentlemen came to lock me up in here." He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then continued.
"However, I would be careful about asking Mr. Robertson about them. The last doctor that did, ended up getting sacked I think. At least I never saw him again after he said he was going to speak with Mr. Robertson."
"And what doctor was that?" asked Dr. Johnson thinking that he finally had a piece of evidence that he could easily check to disprove the story.
"That was Dr. Hancock," replied Williams. "I am not too sure how long ago that was, because events in time keep running together for me in here."
Once again Dr. Johnson found himself jolted by what Williams had said. Dr. Hancock was not sacked. He was locked up in the east wing with the other criminally insane, and drugged senseless. It is something that he could follow up on if he chose. If Williams really was insane, there could be no harm in it. Then again...
In any case he would never walk the streets of Los Angeles again without thinking about the story patient Williams had told. What if it were true?